Presently the auroch lowed again, nearer this time, and they could hear the distant shouts of men and the deep baying of the mastiffs. The scene was no strange one to Darius, but when before had he himself been one of the hunted? A thought flashed across him—to point his arrow at Belshazzar, bid the king swear to send him home scatheless, or take the shaft in his breast. But that were madness. Belshazzar had sworn once and cast his oath to the winds; would he remember it now, if wrung from him by force? The Babylonian must be the first to strike.
A new thunder through the wood shook Darius from his despair. The bolt had not fallen. Ahura grant it should not until he had taught these Babylonian “fiend-worshippers” somewhat. He turned to Belshazzar.
“Why do you wait here? Is not the hunt leaving us?”
“What do you fear?” was the reply, with a smile none too reassuring. “The sport is for us alone. The rest will bring the game to us. Fie on you, Persian, if you fear to be overmatched!”
“Not overmatched by ten aurochs!” cried the Persian, looking fairly in the king’s eye. “But will not the chase pass some other way?”
“The game I seek,” flew the answer, “will pass nowhere else.”
Darius’s fingers itched to send one arrow through that royal mantle then, and let all Babylon do its worst. Suddenly it dawned on him that if he were tensely strung, the king was likewise. While he ever questioned, “How will the bolt fall?” Belshazzar’s one thought was, “How much does the envoy suspect?” They each would have given a hundred talents for one peep into the heart of the other. The thought appeared so comical to the prince that, to Belshazzar’s wonderment, he began to laugh; and that laugh refreshed him and strengthened him like a draught of new wine.
“Crash!” A vast lumbering object was dashing through the trees. They heard thickets shivering; birds flew screaming from their nests. The noise neared rapidly. Again the thunderous bellow—close now, and deep. The ground shook with the thunder, and an answering quiver ran through the Persian. Peril or no peril, he had never before faced an auroch, and his hunter’s instinct was strong within him.
Belshazzar’s horse pricked his ears, snorted, and began to rear and plunge. The king barely controlled him. The Persian’s beast started to do likewise, but felt the touch and press of an iron hand and iron knees so powerful that all the spirit was crushed out of him. Not so with Belshazzar.